


Making Space, Finding Time

by perpetualwhim



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-05-23 23:53:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6134365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetualwhim/pseuds/perpetualwhim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After 40-odd years with a vague soul mark and nothing to show for it, Tony had come to terms with the fact he was never going to find his soulmate. And then Bruce Banner happened. Good thing Tony never lets anyone tell him he can't have it all.</p><p>A story about three people doing their best to cope when fate throws a monkey wrench into the works, and the compromises that have to be made to give them half a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tony Stark had always found it difficult to get a read on people. He didn't consider himself a particularly empathetic or intuitive person when it came to interpersonal relationships, and he'd always had more interesting things to think about than amateur psychology. But less than two hours after meeting Bruce Banner, he could already tell that something _big_ was weighing on Bruce's mind, and Tony was determined to find out what it was. 

Tony was familiar with Bruce's work--had become something of an expert on it over the previous night, in fact--and it was obvious this "absent-minded professor" act couldn't be his usual M.O., or the man would never have been published. Tony watched Bruce change the same setting back and forth four different times before finally settling on something that was obviously completely wrong. Tony switched it back with a quick flick of his wrist before following Bruce's gaze to the next display, where he stared vacantly at nothing in particular for several seconds.

"I've finished up those projections," Tony said, and Bruce nearly jumped out of his skin in response. "You need me on anything else?" He had, in fact, finished the projections nearly ten minutes ago and had been waiting for Bruce to notice that he was just following him around the lab and staring, but the waiting had gotten tedious.

"Hmm? Oh, uh, yeah, thanks. Send them over here." Bruce gestured at the display to his right, and Tony sent the data to it. He waited for a few seconds again, but Bruce didn't make any further requests.

"So. You need me on anything else?"

Bruce blinked as if he was waking up. "Oh, right. Yes, could you look at the energy signatures from the first ten sites? We've got them online, but I'd like a second set of eyes to make sure we've got them calibrated correctly."

"Already done," Tony said, snapping his fingers and pointing to the appropriate display. "Calibrated and synced."

"Great. Thanks." Bruce turned back to his work, running a hand through the curly mop on his head.

This was _boring._

"Not that the roundabout methodology isn't working, doc, but I think your head isn't quite in the game." When in doubt, try the direct approach.

Bruce smiled faintly. "I've been out of the game for a long time, Stark. It might take a little while to get back into it."

"With all due respect," Tony said--like he always did just before he said something disrespectful--"that's a load of shit. You live for this: a problem to solve, a solution to find. You've got something big on your mind, and if it's big enough to distract one of the greatest minds in the world from its life's work, then I think I should know what it is. I am rather close to the issue at hand, after all."

Bruce chuckled. "Yeah. You don't know the half of it."

"Exactly," said Tony, bouncing to his feet. "So tell me half, at least. The rest I can figure out--ask anyone, I'm a quick study."

"Stark, this is...this is not really the time."

"Once again, a load of shit." Tony waved his hand to dismiss the display Bruce was peering at, and Bruce gave him a long-suffering glare. "This is wrapped up--we just have to wait for the results. You've got no reason to be obsessing over your data here, apart from a serious dedication to being thorough, and I'd say my presence here fills that need. You're concerned about something else, and when something has you concerned, it's got me curious as hell."

"Not looking to talk about it," Bruce said simply, turning to another workstation and pulling up the screen Tony had just dismissed. The rigid set of his shoulders said the same.

But Tony Stark had never been known for discretion or leaving well enough alone, and so he kept pushing, kept prodding Bruce as he tried to pretend to work until he _had_ to react somehow. Finally, after Tony bumped into him for the twelfth time, Bruce took a step back and took a long, controlled breath before rolling up his sleeve to show off his soul mark.

Even though soul marks were generally a private matter, Tony had seen a fair few in his time. The movies liked to make them out to be wondrous and magical: the first words your perfect match will ever say to you printed on your skin, held close to your heart and guiding your life until you find your happily ever after. In Tony's experience, they were mostly unremarkable. For every rom-com movie-quality mark he'd seen, he'd seen at least a dozen that said something like, "hi, I'm Carol."

Bruce's mark was easily the longest Tony had ever seen, taking up nearly the entire space between Bruce's wrist and elbow. He squinted at it; the words were pressed tightly together, letters uneven, like they'd been scratched into a notepad by someone with a leaky pen and not much time. Slowly, though, the words began to take shape in his head, and Tony's eyes went wide.

_It's good to meet you, Dr. Banner. Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled. And I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster._

"Oh," Tony said. _Oh._

Suddenly things were a whole lot clearer. The way Bruce's hand had felt when he shook it, burning hot and prickly. The way they had finished each other's sentences in the briefing room. The delightful twists that Bruce's mind made as they worked together, always a split second before or after Tony came to the same conclusions. The way Tony couldn't stop looking, needling, touching. The way he'd immediately needed to solve this Bruce-shaped puzzle, needed it like he needed food or air.

Tony's hand came to rest on his side where, beneath his clothes, the word "thanks" was printed in simple, unadorned letters just above his hipbone. _No, thank_ you, he thought, grinning so hard he felt like his face might split. "This is fantastic!"

"No, Tony," Bruce said, "it's...it's really not. You don't--I can't--it's just complicated, okay?"

"No, no, I get that," Tony said, breezing through Bruce's objections like he did everything. "Complicated is fine, I can do complicated. This awesome! And kind of hilarious, but mostly awesome." Tony's brain was spinning a million times a minute, calculating all the possible outcomes and possible pitfalls; there were an awful lot of them, but that was just fine. Tony had always been good at working with uncertainties.

In fact, uncertainty was something he'd resigned himself to a long time ago. Some soul marks were more helpful than others, and what are you supposed when all you know about your soulmate is that the first thing they'll say to you is "thanks"? You hold the door for someone one day, they walk one way, you walk another. Poof--opportunity for perfect fairytale love and happiness gone forever. Not that Tony spent a lot of time holding doors for people, but the theory still held. A lot of people thank you when you're filthy rich.

So Tony had learned to live with it. He came to terms with the fact that he was never going to find his soulmate, and yeah, his coping strategies may have involved a whole lot of short, fiery affairs combined with massive amounts of alcohol and moderate amounts of hard drugs, but eventually they'd worked. He was at peace with it--or at least he had been until Bruce Banner had rolled up his damn sleeve. Until that moment, Tony had moved on and, well, "settled down" wasn't exactly the term, but he'd found someone who could put up with his quirks and his particular blend of charming and crazy, and somehow he'd convinced her to stay.

Pepper's soul mark read, "hi, how can I help you?" in delicate, looping script that followed the curve of her shoulder blade. So maybe they were both settling a little, making the best of a bad situation, but they had settled for each other, and it was kind of working. 

Bruce's lips twisted in a pained smile. "I'm glad that you think this is such a minor thing, because it's only, you know, my life here."

"My life too, big guy," said Tony, quieter, suddenly feeling like someone had doused him with a bucket of cold water. His excitement at being given a new problem to solve had run away with him, and now the rest of his brain was starting to catch up. 

Pepper. He was going to have to tell Pepper.

Shit.

Bruce turned away and went back to making pointless adjustments to the search parameters. Jeez, and Tony had thought _he_ was the King of Avoidance. Tony crossed his arms and tapped his fingers against his elbow as he thought. "So," he said eventually, "I'm involved with someone. I don't know if you've heard of her--Pepper Potts?" Bruce didn't look back or reply, so he went on. "How about you? Do you have anyone?"

Bruce sighed. "No. There was--" He ran his fingers through his hair again, twisting a lock absently as his brow furrowed. "There was someone. I had to run, and she had to move on. It's better that way," he said, his voice stronger, more confident. "I'm not interested in coming between you and your girlfriend. This thing"--he gestured between them--"doesn't have to mean anything. I'm not planning to do anything about it."

"Shame. It's a good thing I am." Bruce opened his mouth to protest, but Tony charged on. "We're going to finish up this operation, and then I'm going to talk to Fury. I don't know what he's got on you that's keeping you here, but I can guarantee you'll be a free man once my legal team gets involved. You're going to come back to Stark Tower with me--I told you before, it's Candyland, you'll love it--and we'll figure things out from there."

"That's...sweet," Bruce said, in a voice that said he thought it was anything but, "but you literally just met me. And you have no idea how dangerous the--the Other Guy can be. You don't want him anywhere near New York, let alone your fancy tower."

"I know all about the Hulk," Tony said, rolling his eyes when Bruce winced at the name. "And I know you've got a lid on him. No incidents in a year, despite living in some of the most densely-packed and dangerous regions of the world? I think New York and Stark Tower will be happy to have you. Not to mention me," he added, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Bruce sighed. "Yeah, I've had this conversation before; the 'he's not that bad once you get to know him' conversation always ends with someone getting hurt. Trust me."

"Trust _me._ " Tony rested his hand on Bruce's, and felt the energy thrumming just below the skin, intoxicating and dangerous. "I'll get you what you need. You just tell me what it is. Drugs? Whores? Home Shopping Network? Whatever it is, I'll get it. You're coming home with me."

Bruce laughed, his voice rough. "This is not a conversation I ever expected I'd be having."

Tony snorted. "With a soul mark like that one, I'm surprised you haven't. This is pretty far from the least probable outcome."

Bruce sighed again, with something like resignation. "Look, let's just finish what we're doing here before we try to deal with anything else, okay? I've got enough going through my head right now; I don't think I'm in much of a state to deal with the ramifications of being soul bonded to Tony Stark." Bruce's inflection was dour, but there was something solid and definite in it that warmed Tony and anchored him; it wasn't just a theory, it was a statement of fact. They were bonded.

He just had to figure out how he was going to deal with that fact.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce felt tension stretching across his shoulders. He'd never dealt well with being watched, and this was like being laid out like a bug under a magnifying glass. Every time he looked in Tony's general direction, he caught Tony glancing away guiltily. "Could you not, please?" he muttered after what must have been the fifteenth time.

"Not what?" Tony asked, all innocence. 

"You know what," Bruce said, leveling a glare at Tony, but Tony feigned ignorance, raising his hands in a "not a clue" gesture. "It feels like I'm being studied. I'm not a fan."

"I'm not studying, I'm observing."

"Same thing."

"The studying comes later, after I've collected all the data." 

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked back up at the display in front of him, squinting at the numbers scrolling through the center. All within normal tolerances. As frustrating as it was to admit, Tony had been right--there was very little to do here but wait. His stomach growled; did the helicarrier have a cafeteria? Snack bar? Vending machines? For a brief moment he considered asking Tony; maybe Tony would even go grab him something while he kept an eye on the lab. And maybe he could see if the lab doors locked from the inside. He glanced at Tony and saw him staring with piercing brown eyes, not even bothering to look away this time. Yeah, that probably wasn't going to happen.

"What I don't get, doc," Tony said, thankfully turning away to wander over to where he'd left his jacket, "is why you're so nonchalant about this. I mean, finding your soulmate is literally a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and a lot of people don't even get that. And considering that it's, y'know, me...I find it hard to believe that you're not at least a little bit excited."

"'Excited' isn't exactly the word I'd use."

"Thrilled?" Tony offered. "Giddy? Delighted?"

"More like 'uneasy and terrified,' but good try."

"Oh, come on," Tony said, digging in the pocket of his jacket, "I don't bite. Unless you're into that, in which case I do. Constantly." He pulled out a small pouch of food--a second pack of the blueberries he'd been snacking on earlier, from the looks of it--and started absently tugging at the seal.

"Tony--"

"I know, I know," Tony said with what sounded like a bit of a sigh. "It's not me you're afraid of." 

"Essentially," Bruce said, frowning as he leaned against a table and finally pushed aside the display he'd been working with. "Relationships are...not a good idea. They're unpredictable. They lead to emotional outbursts and stress even in the best of situations, and I don't know much about you, but I do know you're an adrenaline junkie with a reputation for having a very volatile and public love life. No offense," he added, quieter.

"None taken," said Tony with a shrug. He looked down at the pouch of blueberries he'd finally managed to open, blinking, and his brow furrowed. He shook the bag gently, lips pursed as a few berries shook loose and rattled in the plastic. "Um, I'm not," he mumbled uncertainly, then looked up at Bruce. "Are you hungry? I don't know why I opened these."

Of course. He'd wished Tony would get him some food. "Damn it," Bruce groaned. So much for logic and modern sensibilities overriding the pull of instinct. "Yeah, I am. Sorry."

"Huh," Tony said. He leaned against the table next to Bruce, gave the pouch one more puzzled look, and wordlessly held it out. Lacking any sensible alternatives, Bruce grabbed a handful and started chewing on them thoughtfully. "That was weird," Tony said after a while. "I mean, I always knew that the bond is supposed to give you some kind of emotional connection, but..."

"It's unsettling to actually see it in action," Bruce agreed. 

"What number am I thinking of right now?"

"Pretty sure it doesn't work like that."

"Humor me."

"Four."

Tony scowled. "Well, that's disappointing. If fate is going to screw with our heads, the least it could do is give us some super powers for our trouble."

"Be careful what you ask for. Super powers aren't always as fun as they look in the comic books." Not that what he had was "super powers," exactly, but nobody would dispute that Bruce's bigger, greener side qualified as "superhuman." It just wasn't the kind of "superhuman" that he'd fantasized about as a kid, all muscled chests and flowing capes, flight and laser eyes. If his comic books had suggested the possibility of turning into an out-of-control indestructible giant, he might've been a little less gung-ho about tinkering around with experimental radiation.

Or maybe he wouldn't, he thought, rubbing his arm. A soul mark that talks about anti-electron collisions tends to set a kid on a particular path in life. He'd be lying if he said the idea of meeting his one perfect mate hadn't contributed to his choice of field of study.

"Hey, brilliant idea," Tony said brightly, snapping his fingers with a quick flourish. "How about we talk about almost anything else? Like maybe where I need to send a car to pick up the rest of your stuff?"

Bruce never had the chance to answer; Nick Fury swept into the room, followed by everyone else. An argument broke out, and he felt the familiar prickling of a snarling animal just below his skin; he felt Tony's anger echoing it, spitting it back at him like microphone feedback while Tony bristled at Fury, at Romanoff, at _Captain America_. 

The explosion rocked them all, shocking Bruce and Tony just enough to stop the feedback--his own amplified anger reflected back like two mirrors facing each other--but the pot was still boiling, and Bruce felt it rippling through his muscles with every wave of pain as the sharp metal grating of the catwalk cut into his knees and elbows. His joints screamed; the shattered bones in his ankle ground together with every shuddering breath he took; blood streamed from a wound on his head that pounded in time with his rapidly-climbing heartbeat.

Romanoff spoke to him, but her words were lost in a roar like rushing water that engulfed him, squeezed the air from his lungs until, gasping, he felt his last tether snap. The heat of pure relief flooded through him--better than whiskey, better than morphine, better than sex--and finally, blissfully, he stopped thinking.

\--

Tony's footsteps pounded down the hall to where his suit stood, waiting. Stupid, he'd been so stupid--arguing was so much second nature to him that he hadn't even noticed himself getting swept away, pushing it too far, lashing out at the wrong people just because something inside him was snarling and snapping and taking every inch of rein it was given. Now they were under attack, and he was--

_exposed, like a nerve_

\--helpless without his suit. The anger that had put him one breath away from decking Captain America had twisted into raw terror, and every nerve ending in his body was on high alert, hyper-aware of just how fragile he was; how brittle his bones, how soft his flesh. 

He needed his suit. Needed it to surround his useless, breakable body so that he could _do_ something instead of just--

Tony could feel the exact moment the Hulk took over. Suddenly the alien pull on his emotions solidified and yanked, _hard_ , but at the same time it became crisper, clearer, easier to separate from his own feelings. It became a second voice--one he had no choice but to listen to, but he could at least tell that it wasn't his own.

 _Yelling. Scolding. Tiny people acting like they know the future. Like they understand. They know_ nothing. _Don't even know themselves._

The armor began fastening itself around Tony's body, but the clarity of purpose he usually felt when he donned his second skin didn't come. Instead, his heart continued to beat faster, and when the faceplate locked into place, he felt for an instant like bolting, like lashing out, like clawing at the armor until he was free.

But a moment later, he had a task to focus on, and he let it drive him, shaky but confident, back into his comfort zone. Problem solving. Engineering. Get engine three back online. This, at least, was something he could do.

\--

He felt it when the Hulk lost consciousness. He fought down a wave of terror at the sudden blank feeling in his heart. Banner would be fine. Banner had to be fine.

_In case you needed to kill me, but you can't! I know; I tried._

Banner would be _fine._

He felt it when Banner woke up, too, and the flood of relief nearly made his knees give out. He steadied himself against the wall and gulped down air like he'd been holding his breath all day. 

The battle that followed was intense and messy and terrifying, but when Cap's voice came through on the comm telling him Bruce had arrived, he felt a fierce burst of joy. He couldn't even bring himself to feel guilty about it. "Then tell him to suit up. I'm bringing the party to you."

As he rounded the corner, trailing the Chitauri monstrosity, and saw a figure that was somehow as familiar to him as his own reflection, he couldn't help himself. He barely managed to mute his comm before he erupted into triumphant laughter, whooping and yelling with delight as Bruce turned and strode towards the Chitauri, fluid and confident like Tony had never seen him.

Bruce would be fine.

\--

Bruce woke gently, easier than he ever had after a transformation. A light blanket was wrapped around him, sweat-damp but otherwise soft and clean. He blinked a few times, taking stock of his surroundings. He was lying on a leather couch in a room he didn't recognize, some sort of lobby or lounge, maybe. The room was expansive and mostly empty, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the orange-tinged light of early evening and cast deep shadows in the otherwise-unlit room. On one side of the room was a sleek wet bar, and not far from that was a small crater in the floor, surrounded by shattered concrete and floor tiles.

That was familiar, somehow. Bruce didn't really want to think too hard about how.

"Welcome back." Tony's voice. He didn't want to think too hard about that, either.

"Thanks," Bruce said flatly. He mulled over his next words, considering any number of questions. _Where am I? How long was I out? How many people did I kill this time? How about last time? How long until Ross shows up to take me away?_ "Still thinking about taking me home with you?" he asked instead, forcing levity into the words that he couldn't feel.

"Nope," Tony replied, stepping out of the shadows with a couple of bottles of water, and for a brief moment Bruce thought some sanity had been injected into the situation. It didn't last. "Already did it. Welcome to Stark Tower, Dr. Banner," Tony said, gently lobbing a bottle in Bruce's direction. "I mean, apartments are a few floors down, but you're welcome to come up here to the penthouse whenever you want once repairs are done. A couple windows need replacing, and there's that," he said, gesturing towards the ruined floor. "I'm thinking I might have it filled in with some clear epoxy, maybe add a commemorative plaque. They say it's the little imperfections that add character to a place."

"Tony, you can't just--"

"Look," Tony interrupted, "I don't know about you, but I've had a hell of a day. I have a feeling that we're going to have this conversation a lot in the future--where you tell me why something is a really bad idea, and I completely ignore you because you're _wrong_ \--so I don't think skipping it just this once will hurt anything. There's a real-life superhero, a couple of government assassins, and a Norse god waiting for us downstairs, and I _know_ you're hungry, so let's just get some shawarma and try to deal with the crazy metaphysical stuff tomorrow. Deal?"

Bruce sighed, feeling his last shred of resistance crumble as his stomach growled at the mention of food. "Deal," he said, defeated. "I don't suppose you have an extra pair of pants?"


	3. Chapter 3

Pepper stared at her hands, rubbing one thumb over the other palm with a blank expression.

"Pep? You're being conspicuously silent."

"Yes, Tony, I am," she said, exasperation threading through her words. "I am pretty lacking in useful or relevant things to say in this situation."

"Don't worry about useful," he said with a shrug. "Pretty sure nothing I've said so far has been useful--why should all the pressure be on you?"

Pepper laughed, but the sound was hollow. Her eyes stayed fixed on her hands. Finally, she asked, "What are you going to do?"

"Jeez, Pep, you really think I have any idea? This is why I needed to talk to you--you're smarter than me, you're better with this stuff. I can't do this without you."

"Actually, Tony, you _can_ do this without me. In fact, that's probably the easiest solution to your problem."

Tony snorted. "When have I ever taken the easy way out? Walking away isn't on the table, not for me. I'm coming to you because you're a part of this, whatever happens."

"There's only so many things that _can_ happen. What we have...it's nice, it's surprisingly comfortable, but it's not a soul bond. It's not anything like what you could have with him. I don't want to get in the way of that."

"So don't," Tony said. "Problem solved."

"Tony--"

"No, hear me out here," Tony said, sitting next to her on the couch and giving her an eager look. She glanced up from her lap briefly, but looked back down after scanning his face. "You've heard of polyamory, right? It's trendy, but it seems to work for a lot of people. I know it's not something we've really talked about before, but maybe we could try? God knows our relationship has seen some weird stuff. I think we could handle it."

Pepper finally met his eyes, and the sight of her eyes, red and shining with tears, tore his heart out. "Oh, Tony," she said, her voice bleeding patience, "I don't think I ever expected a relationship with you to be exclusive forever. I could cope with...I don't know, a fling or an indiscretion. I expected it. I _planned_ for it. But this is different. Whatever I mean to you, what we have isn't a soul bond; it's nothing compared to what you could have with him. I don't think I could do that. I'd be the third wheel. I'd be the--the pity fuck." The word sounded foreign on her lips as she spat it out.

Tony leaned forward, cupping her cheek in his palm. "No, no, no--never. Nothing about you deserves pity." Pepper gave him a skeptical look, but he went on. "You're beautiful, and sharp, and amazing. You're a better person than I could ever hope to be, and if anyone's the pity fuck here, it's been me, every time. I've known that since the beginning."

Pepper turned her face towards his palm, leaning into his touch, but didn't say anything in response.

"I mean it," he said, dragging his thumb gently across her cheek. "I know you're not my soulmate, but what we've got is just as important. We've got this incredible relationship forged in fire and tears and all that metaphorical shit we've been through, and I'm not ready to give that up for anything, not even a devastatingly handsome genius." He caught the look Pepper shot him and ducked his head. "Sorry. Slipped out."

Neither of them said anything for a while, then Pepper quietly asked, "what do you want to do about this, Tony? I mean, what does our next step look like?"

"Well, we talk this over...."

"We _are_ talking this over. What next?" That was something he'd always loved (and kind of hated) about Pepper: her ability to cut through anyone's hesitation or stalling tactics and get right to the root of a problem. It was what had made her such an invaluable personal assistant back when he'd needed a firm hand, and what had made her such an effective CEO of Stark Industries.

"Maybe...." Tony scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Maybe I could take him out to dinner, if that's okay with you? Um, we could sort of see if there's anything worth pursuing between us."

"Like a date?"

"Um, yeah. I mean, if that would work for you. It doesn't have to be anything serious, and you know, maybe we'll just decide that we're not a good match and that'll be the end of it," he said with a shrug. 

She gave him a look that was somewhere between an eyeroll and a glare. "I don't think you really believe that."

"It's possible." Which was true. Technically. Pepper didn't call him on it, but he could tell she wanted to.

"So, one date. Just dinner?"

"That's the idea."

"I know how dates usually go for you, Tony. Remember, I used to be on cleanup duty?"

"No point in getting ahead of ourselves. I mean, who knows if he'd even be interested?"

"And if he is?" Tony shifted uncomfortably under Pepper's gaze. "Are you?"

Tony groaned. "I don't know. I mean, yes, I guess? I'm intrigued. He's an interesting guy, and this soul bond stuff is crazy, but there really is something to it. We're already connected, somehow. I've felt it a couple of times."

Pepper's voice was quieter. "Felt it how?"

Something about the look on Pepper's face made him pause and consider his words. She looked like she would fall to pieces at any moment, and even though he'd been trying to embrace "radical honesty" in their relationship, he wasn't ready to tell her that he thought about Bruce almost every second of the day, or that he wanted to be near Bruce so badly that sometimes he actually tore out his hair in frustration. "Little things," he said with the most casual shrug he could muster. "He was hungry, and I brought him food without realizing I was doing it. When there's a word on the tip of my tongue, he can finish my sentence for me. I could tell when he turned into the Hulk, even though I wasn't there."

Pepper's lips were pressed together in a thin line. "So he wanted something, and you gave it to him without even realizing you were doing it. And you don't have _any idea_ what you two would end up doing on a date?"

"Well, when you put it that way...." Tony sighed. "I guess...yeah, that's a possibility. It's something I might want to do. Is that something I could do? I mean, would you be okay with it?"

"I can't answer that unless I know what 'it' is." Pepper's voice was clipped, the way it got when she was rapidly losing patience with Tony. He kind of wished he didn't know that sound so well. "Being vague is doing neither of us any favors."

"Sex," Tony said, clearing his throat slightly when his voice hitched on the word. "If we wanted to have sex, would you be okay with it?"

Pepper's eyes slid shut, and she shook her head almost imperceptibly. "No, Tony. I can't...that's just too much for me to handle right now."

"But...maybe sometime in the future?" Tony winced as soon as he said it, seeing the look on Pepper's face. "Sorry," he said hastily, "I shouldn't push."

The thing was, he _wanted_ to push. He loved Pepper, more than he'd ever loved anyone, and he wanted her to be happy and comfortable forever, but he also wanted Bruce. Which was absurd, considering how short a time he'd known him, but he couldn't deny the strength of this--this force, whatever it was, that was pulling them together. The idea of just leaving Bruce behind left him feeling like there was a fist around his heart, squeezing with every breath he took.

He wanted Pepper, and he wanted Bruce, and the only way he could have them both was if he dragged Pepper out of her comfort zone. 

What did it say about him that we was perfectly willing to do that?

"I don't know," Pepper said with a sigh. "I'm trying to be open-minded about this, but I'm being honest here. I don't know if that's something I can deal with."

Gently, Tony reached over and covered her hand with his. After a few seconds, she shifted her hand to hook their fingers together and they sat there for a long moment, hands clasped and resting in her lap. "So," he said eventually, "dialing things back a bit--and just to be clear, I'm not trying to push, I'm trying to set boundaries you're comfortable with--what if I wanted to, say, give him a good-night kiss?"

Pepper chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. "What kind of a kiss are we talking here? Tongue or no tongue?"

Tony snickered softly. "Sorry," he said, giving Pepper's hand a light squeeze when she shot him a puzzled look, "just don't think I've heard that question since I was a teenager." He thought about it for a moment; a chaste kiss was far more likely to get a yes, but he hadn't had a good-night kiss that could be considered "restrained" in any sense of the word since he was about 17. And wow, kissing Bruce...a shiver went through him at the idea. He could imagine what those lips felt like, how they might part for him, and how Bruce might use his quiet strength if Tony could get him relaxed and confident like he'd been that day when he faced down the Chitauri. "Um, tongue," he said, suddenly feeling very warm.

There was another pause while Pepper considered this, making a face like she was chewing on something sour. "I think that would be okay. But...." And then it was Pepper's turn to snicker. Tony raised an eyebrow at her. "At the risk of sounding like a teenager again, I don't think I'm comfortable with you making out with him."

Tony nodded. "Let's talk definitions, then. What's the difference between kissing and making out?"

"That's really hard to put my finger on," she admitted. Her thumb traced the edge of Tony's hand as she considered. "Time spent doing it, I guess? Anything longer than a few seconds starts to cross into that territory, but that's not a hard and fast rule or anything. What you're doing with the rest of your body. You tend to get pretty...handsy. If your hands are below the waist or under clothes, I'd say that starts to count as making out."

"Okay," Tony said, and he felt a pang of guilt when he couldn't keep a note of disappointment out of his voice. As much as he'd known that things were going to go like this, he had, in a childish way, held onto a tiny shred of hope that Pepper would take the whole thing in stride without blinking. She had surprised him before. "Hands to myself, ten second time limit. I can do that," he said, more brightly this time.

"You're not happy with this," she said. It was an observation, not a question.

"No, I'm--" He managed to stop himself before _I'm fine_ came out. Pepper was smarter than that, and this was probably the worst possible time to brush off her concerns. _Radical honesty,_ he reminded himself. _Suck it up, Stark._ "It's not my ideal situation, no. But it's one I can live with until _you're_ comfortable. I want you to be happy." That, at least, was the truth.

"What if that never happens?" Pepper fixed him with a look that he knew all too well: a piercing stare that came out when she was negotiating a tough deal in the boardroom. It was a look that hinted at bad news coming, and Tony had rarely been on the receiving end of it. "What if I'm never comfortable with the idea of you and him together? What will you do if I just can't get on board?"

Tony looked at her face and felt tears pricking at his eyes. What _would_ he do? This was Pepper--beautiful, patient, brilliant Pepper; the only woman who'd ever been able to put up with his manic energy for more than a few weeks; the only person in the world besides Rhodey that he trusted implicitly, trusted with his _life._ Even before they'd been a couple, she'd become such an integral part of his life that he couldn't imagine it without her, and not just because she'd been his personal assistant. She'd been so much more--a friend, an accomplice, a confidant. Now she was a lover, a partner, and so much more important to him than he'd ever imagined one person could be.

And yet, Pepper wasn't the one tugging at the corner of his mind with ever-increasing intensity, and as much as he loved her--and he did, desperately--he'd never felt as clearly _connected_ to her as he did to the scientist living three floors down whom he'd known for all of one week. 

Tony squeezed Pepper's hand, maybe a little too hard. "I don't know," he said, his voice breaking. "I'm--I can't--can we just leave that for another day? I just need to feel like things are going to be okay right now. Please?"

Pepper nodded silently, and he threw his arms around her waist and clung to her like she might float away. She took in a few shaking breaths, and he tipped his head up to look in her eyes. They were moist and rimmed with red, but she still gave him a small smile and reached up to stroke his cheek, his neck, his hair. "Tony," she said softly, "come to bed with me?"

He tangled his fingers in her hair and sat up a little straighter so he could kiss her, slowly, pouring everything he felt, everything he wanted to tell her into it like they had all the time in the world. "Always, Pepper," he breathed against her lips when they finally broke apart. "Always."


	4. Chapter 4

"Wow," said Natasha when Bruce told her. She didn't laugh, though; just leaned back in her chair and swished her vodka in her glass before taking another drink. She had offered to pour him one when they sat down, and he flexed his fingers, wishing he'd taken her up on it just so he'd have something to do with his hands. After a long, thoughtful pause, she said, "I can see how that could be a problem."

He knew there was a reason he liked Natasha.

"What do you want to do about it?" she asked.

And that was the question, wasn't it? What _did_ he want to do about it? He couldn't deny that he was feeling pulled towards Tony. It was uncomfortable, like someone had tied a string around his stomach and wouldn't let go of the other end. He'd taken up Tony's offer to move to Stark Tower (Avengers Tower? The name was still kind of up in the air.) on the condition that Tony give him some space, and miraculously, he had. He hadn't seen Tony at all, apart from the one time they'd passed each other in a hallway, Tony deeply engaged in conversation with two suited SHIELD agents. Tony had caught his eye and halted mid-sentence as they passed each other shoulder-to-shoulder, almost close enough to touch. The silence only lasted half a second, though, and Tony quickly picked up his train of thought again, leaving Bruce alone to consider the monumental effort of putting one foot in front of another.

It had been agony.

So yes, Bruce wanted to do something about it. Desperately. But if there was one thing the last couple of years had taught him, it was self-control in the face of overwhelming emotion, and he was still pretty sure that getting into a relationship with Tony Stark was literally the worst thing he could possibly do with his life. It had to be in the top five, at least.

"I want to go back a few weeks to when my life was much simpler."

"What's your second choice?" Natasha asked without missing a beat.

"I don't know. This whole thing has red flags plastered all over it, but despite his many and varied flaws, I actually like Tony." Natasha let out a quiet chuckle, and Bruce had heard enough about their shared history to suspect she knew the feeling. "I don't know how much of this can be chalked up to soul bond-related insanity, but we seem to fit together well. Working with him to find the Tesseract was...well, fun. It's not often I have the opportunity to work with someone who can keep up with me and follow my convoluted processes. I think we could probably do great things together."

"But..." Natasha prompted.

Bruce sighed. "But I don't think I can be close to him in any capacity without the bond interfering. We've only even been in the same room a handful of times, and I've still felt this inescapable pull every time. It's like the floor is slanted towards him and I have to fight to stay in one place. It's hard to stay emotionally detached from a guy when you can literally feel what he's feeling."

Natasha's eyebrows lifted for a second. "It's that strong, huh?" Bruce nodded, and she fixed him with a serious look. "Hate to break it to you, Banner, but you're screwed."

"Thanks," he said, giving her a half-smile. "I can always count on you to be a comfort in my time of need."

She shrugged, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips, too. "Just telling it like it is. If you're that affected this quickly, it's probably not something you can just ride out and go your separate ways. You're linked, whether you like it or not."

"Yeah," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I kinda figured that out already. That's why I came to you--I thought you could give me some more specific advice."

"On...?"

Bruce ducked his head slightly. "On navigating a platonic relationship with your soul mate. I, uh," he said, fidgeting, "don't want to be presumptuous, and I'm sorry if I'm reading this wrong, but you and Agent Barton...?"

At that, she did finally laugh. He felt his cheeks growing hot and started to apologize again, but Natasha waved her hand. "No, no, you've got it right. It's just that if you were able to figure it out so quickly, we must be getting sloppy. I can't wait to see the look on his face when I tell him." She downed the rest of her drink and reached out to pour another. "It's not a big secret, but we try to keep it quiet anyway. Partly just out of habit, but also because it makes our jobs a lot harder if people are panicking every time they have to separate us for a mission."

"So, how does it work? Have you two ever...been more involved?"

Natasha shook her head. "We tried, once. It was awkward and terrible for everyone involved, and best not spoken of."

"How did you do it, then? How did you keep the bond from affecting you like that?"

"Bruce," she said almost sadly, reaching out to pat his hand, "I've been trained, literally from birth, to reject emotional attachments, and Clint is a hot mess. What we've got works for us because of our very unique circumstances. I wish I had some better news for you, but if you're already feeling less-than-platonic, I wouldn't expect that to change."

Bruce sighed, resting his head in his hands. "Is that offer of a drink still open? Maybe I could use it after all."

\--

"Hang on, Romanoff," Tony said as the rest of the Avengers filed out of the briefing room. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

Natasha raised a dubious eyebrow, but gave a nod to Barton and hung back. "What is it?" she asked when they were alone.

"I could use some advice on a sensitive issue, and I trust your discretion."

"Is this Avengers-related?"

"Technically, yes," he said, wobbling his head side-to-side. "But it's more of a personal matter."

"No way," Natasha said, taking a step back from him with her hands raised. "I've already done this once this week; I've filled my quota."

Tony blinked at her. "What?"

"Look," she said with a sigh, "I've already talked to Bruce, okay? Why does everyone have me pegged as the relationship advice expert?"

"Who else am I going to go to? Captain Tightpants? _Barton?_ "

"How about Rhodes? He's listened to you whine about your problems for years and hasn't tried to kill you once."

"He's in Bulgaria for the rest of the month." Honestly, he'd considered talking to Rhodey anyway; his mission was technically a secret, but Tony knew for a fact he'd brought the War Machine armor, and the Air Force hadn't yet figured out how to deactivate Tony's trackers. But he'd been trying to be a better friend, and one can only hear _for fuck's sake, Tony, would you let me finish a mission on my own just this once_ or _this was supposed to be undercover, asshole, you'd better be on fire_ so many times before one starts to think maybe they're not actually all that welcome to drop in. So he was staying home this time, comforted by the knowledge that he was growing as a person. "And I don't whine," he added.

"Of course not," Natasha said, with an infuriating sort of half-smile. "But I'm not going to play Dear Abby for both of you. Bruce has already confided in me, and it would be inappropriate to work both sides."

"Inappropriate?" Tony spluttered. "I hope you realize how ridiculous that sounds coming from you, _Natalie._ "

"Stark--"

"No, really, _Ms. Rushman._ You were perfectly fine with me signing your Stark Industries paychecks while you were still on SHIELD's payroll, but as soon as I want a little _help_..."

Natasha didn't take the bait. "You didn't sign the checks; Chloe in H.R. did."

Tony boggled. "How do you even remember that? Wasn't that, like, a year ago? What's it like, being a robot? I mean, I've built a few, but I've never been on the--"

"And I collected those paychecks because I was actually doing a job. I cleaned up more of your messes than you'll ever know."

"I notice you're not denying you're a robot." Natasha gave him a flat look, arms crossed and completely motionless. Definitely a robot. "So why not help me with one more mess, for old times' sake?"

"The old times sucked," Natasha said, then gave a small sigh. She held out her hand. "Here, give me your tablet."

Tony glanced down at his StarkPad, then handed it over. Natasha punched in his unlock code, and it took him a second for that to sink in. "Hey, wait a sec--how do you--" Natasha flicked her eyes up to his and raised one eyebrow. "Right, spy. Carry on."

Natasha opened up a new note and typed for a few moments, her fingers flying over the screen with practiced ease. She hit "save" and handed the tablet back to him. "After I talked to Bruce, I did a little research. That's a list of books that might help you out. Your situation is unusual, but it's not exactly unique; there are some good resources out there for how to open up a relationship, and how to deal with finding your soulmate late in life. Do some reading--it might help you figure out what you want to do."

Tony made a sour face. "I wasn't looking for _homework._ I want the kind of help where you use your wisdom and experience to tell me what to do, and I do it."

"Just read the damn books, Stark."

"And hang on--'late in life?' I'm only 42!"

Natasha gave him a small smirk and left the room.

"Don't you turn your back on me, young lady!" he called out after her. "Didn't anyone ever teach you to respect your elders?" Silence answered him, and he looked back down at his tablet. He tapped it against the palm of his hand, chewing his lip thoughtfully for a while before flicking open the note Natasha had written and beginning to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come flail with me [on tumblr!](http://perpetualwhim.tumblr.com)


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